


No Gods, No Masters (Except For Me, The Writer)

by anticentristpropaganda



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, being ashamed of ur own writing so you critique stereotypes you use in your own writing, drugs cause ancom is a lil druggie, i need to sleep, jreg - Freeform, no my tags dont make sense what about it whore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24348940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticentristpropaganda/pseuds/anticentristpropaganda
Summary: I basically jam-packed every single stereotype of fanfictions i could into a fic??? it might get to meta at some places but basically im God cause i write the story and Ancom and Tankie yell at me for writing a bad story. its supposed to be a critique of fanfics lmao
Relationships: ancom/authleft
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	No Gods, No Masters (Except For Me, The Writer)

**Author's Note:**

> When the characters say "Stella" they're referring to me, thats my name :^)

Tankie drunkenly stumbled down the street, matching Ancom's pace. He watched quis light brown curls bob up and down, framing quis emerald eyes.   
"You know, I am not theistic, but Marx has blessed me by bringing you here Anarkitty."

Ancom looked up at the raining sky, as if qui could see into my eyes. "Really, Stella? You couldn't have come up with a better line?"   
"Hey, Tankie worshipping old commies is funny! It's characterization."  
"I'm the one who has to fall in love with this guy! Make it a little easier on my part?"   
I felt bad. I did make quis feelings unrequited in the last fic, after all. But I had to please the fans!  
"Shut the fuck up and be a drug-addled bottom bitch, will ya?" I whispered aggressively. My hands gripped a cloud too aggressively, squeezing a little rain onto Tankie's head. 

Ancom blushed, quis hands twitching with a surge of psychedelics. "T-Thanks, Commie," qui mumbled.

Commie knocked on the door of an old hotel, floorboards creaking under the tread of his boots.  
"Hey, we need a room. Seperate beds, please?" he spat.  
"Sure, I'll ring one up for you," she smiled pleasantly.  
"Oh shit, sorry sir. We only have rooms with a single bed. Will that be alright?" she asked with a smirk.

"JESUS FUCK STELLA!" Ancom shrieked. Even Tankie sneered at me.  
"Hey, how else am I supposed to get you two to cuddle?" I grinned sheepishly. "Try telling each other how you feel sooner and I won't torture you like this." 

"Alright, that is fine." grumbled Tankie at the poor cashier. He hastily grabbed the key and pushed Ancom up to their room.

The door fell open, spilling pools of light onto the dusty furniture. Tankie gave Ancom a quick look, trying to decipher what was on quis mind. Was sharing a bed in the cards for them?

Planning is for capitalists, he thought. Now is the time for action.  
He took the side of Ancom's neck and pulled quim into a kiss. Ancom stood on quis toes, matching the Statist's height.

I smirked from up in the clouds. These commie bastards were gonna end up making a Centrist sooner or later, if you're catching my drift.

Ancom stared into Tankie's deeply set orbs, framed by a sharp nose. Qui offered a small smile, unable to speak.

Fuck, I forgot about the orbs. That was a trick I could always pull out of my sleeve. Alexa, play the entire reading of My Immortal.

Ancom stumbled into the bathroom. Qui had to care for quis teeth, otherwise the constant drugs would rot quis mouth from the inside out. 

When both leftists were ready for bed, they decided to share a chair clearly meant for one while Tankie read Ancom Marx in a soft voice. Even if Tankie is a bootlicking statist, qui wondered, qui could get used to this.


End file.
